I’m not proud of myself

I took the kids out today. Boxing Day. I always love it. They amuse me by coming along. As long as I bribe them with ice cream they are willing participants in this day of insanity.

I’m not crazy about the long line ups in change rooms. And I hate retuning things. So I will often find a mirror and try tops on in the store.

Today I was especially aware of myself. I felt like everyone was staring. But nobody was. It was in my head. And that’s okay.

As I took off my shirt, wearing just a tank top, I wondered what people thought.  Having these feelings only solidifies that this disorder for me is not about appearances. It goes deeper than that. So, again progress. This has been a great couple of weeks for that. I’m doing better. Not worse. Day by day, minute by minute, second by second I’m fighting a demon. But I’m fighting.

One day it won’t be a fight. Look, I’m realistic. I know this will be a lifelong battle. But one day, the day I look forward to it will simply be a moment of struggle that I overcome and move on. Not something that lives with me all day.  It’s not a fun companion to have and I intend, wait, I WILL be myself again. image.jpg

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